A New Haven for Shorebirds: A Story from Fort Pulaski, Georgia

Jeanne O'Rourke | August 29, 2020 | Newsletters

Photo: Pam Smith. Banded Black-bellied Plover, in non-breeding plumage, observed in early spring at Fort Pulaski.

Abby Sterling

Shorebird Biologist

As we stood on the short stretch of re-nourished shoreline, we were completely absorbed watching hundreds of shorebirds feeding in a frenzy as the tide fell, exposing soft, wet sand that harbored bountiful, nutritious horseshoe crab eggs. The shorebirds were all dressed for their Arctic breeding grounds, their vibrant colors reflecting the setting sun in the warm evening night. Colorful and feisty Ruddy Turnstones, rusty and speckled Short-billed Dowitchers, Sanderling showing off their warm reddish-brown color, and Dunlin with solid black bellies.

It was nearing the end of May so these birds were restless while feeding, and some were a bit ahead of themselves, singing their Arctic breeding songs. It’s rare in Georgia to hear Arctic nesting shorebirds singing, but at the end of spring migration, just before they take off, you can catch little snippets. Others were territorial as they fed at a particularly dense patch of horseshoe crab eggs, bickering like kids after a very long road trip. For some of these shorebirds who may have traveled from as far as southern South America, it’s easy to imagine they might be tired of their travel companions.

A volunteer and I have been surveying this little stretch of sand since July 2019, as part of a larger project to better understand how people and birds use publically accessible beaches. Fort Pulaski has only had a beach for a short time—dredged material from the Savannah shipping channel was placed here to protect cultural resources dating back to the Civil War from a retreating, erosional shoreline. The added sediment did more than protect the Fort—it created a new opportunity for shorebirds to escape the crowds of people from Savannah who visit the beaches of Tybee Island, and find a safe resting place just a short flight up-river. But, as word spreads about this tiny shoreline, people have started to view it as a dog-friendly option for walking and recreation, and it is common to have a dozen people and dogs near the access point. Throughout most of the surveys I’ve conducted, the birds have used only the quieter half of beach—we’ve counted large flocks of American Oystercatchers, Whimbrel, Black-bellied Plovers, and Semipalmated Plovers packed in to the far end of about 200 meters.

Photo: Abby Sterling. Shorebirds feeding at Fort Pulaski prior to migration.

We’ve been working with the park since July 2019 to raise awareness about the value of this place as a habitat for shorebirds. I’ve held trainings and provided resources for park staff who focus more on history than wildlife, and the response has been overwhelmingly positive.

Photo: Paul Woodard, CWS. Banded Black-bellied Plover, captured and banded at nest in Canadian Arctic, Summer 2018.

Laura Waller, the Resource Manager, is eager to train park staff about shorebird life history, and every time I do a survey I run into someone who has a shorebird story to share. Robert, usually in the booth to collect visitor fees, is so excited about shorebirds now that he has a report for me every time I come through the gate, and I reciprocate with interesting sightings I’ve had. This spring, when I saw a Black-bellied Plover sporting a white flag band with the code ‘25A’, I told Robert that the bird was banded in Canada and on its way to Arctic nesting grounds. He became completely enthralled with the idea that ‘his’ park was connected to so many places across the globe by the identifiable individual shorebirds that depend on it. I later chatted with Paul Woodard, the biologist from Canadian Wildlife Services who banded that particular bird in the summer of 2018 at its nest at Nanuit Itillinga (formerly Polar Bear Pass) National Wildlife Area on Bathurst Island, Nunavut. This outpost is high in the northern reaches of the Canadian Arctic, more than 3,000 miles away from the coast of Georgia. The bird was not seen again until September 2019 by local birder Diana Churchill, and then again my survey the following spring. Re-sighting banded birds, like 25A, at Fort Pulaski helps tie together all the people across the hemisphere who are invested in protecting these important places.

Map provided by CWS, showing the nesting and banding location of 25A.

But that evening in May, it was just Pam Smith and me witnessing hundreds of long-distance migrants preparing for an incredible journey. The beach was silent except for the scraping and bumping sounds of the horseshoe crabs as they jostled one another on their way back out into the water, and the chittering and singing of the feeding shorebirds. We were the only ones at Fort Pulaski, because unlike other places in Georgia, the park remained closed to the public throughout the entire Covid shutdown. The park’s new-found appreciation for shorebirds provided support for our continued surveys, and so the data from this site now shows exactly how shorebirds responded with the complete absence of people. After only three or four weeks, we started seeing birds roosting and feeding more widely across the beach rather than being clustered at the far end. And because there are no people here, as horseshoe crabs spawn along the sandy shoreline there are ample feeding opportunities for the birds. In addition to that, this spring we observed a Wilson’s Plover family successfully hatch and fledge chicks from their first nesting attempt! The quiet shoreline provided them the perfect place to forage for fiddler crabs on the back beach, and all three chicks survived, taking flight about 35 days after hatching. Documenting hundreds of shorebirds during migration, the success of nesting Wilson’s Plover, and finding birds like the Black-bellied Plover from Canada, has highlighted the value of this small stretch of shoreline and built tremendous support for protection from park management. This increased awareness has highlighted the importance of building partnerships, sharing data, and involving local managers in decision making.

Each place that shorebirds need within the hemisphere is unique, and each comes with challenges and opportunities for conservation. By building the connections between the people who manage these places and the shorebirds that depend on them, outcomes can arise that completely exceed our expectations.

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